


i'm mr loverman (and i miss my lover, man)

by someawkwardprose



Series: fragments (snippets from the blue) [6]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Children of Earth Compliant, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Not A Fix-It, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:41:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28416306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someawkwardprose/pseuds/someawkwardprose
Summary: I'm shattered now/I'm spilling out/upon this linoleum groundJack and Ianto, in the aftermath.
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Series: fragments (snippets from the blue) [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2080962
Comments: 15
Kudos: 36





	i'm mr loverman (and i miss my lover, man)

**Author's Note:**

> archiving my 2020 tumblr snippets, originally posted [here](https://someawkwardprose.tumblr.com/post/636149425062952960/janto-heavy-angst-post-coe-major-character)! PLEASE read the warnings, this is dark. title, and lyrics, come from ricky montgomery's mr loverman, which I wrote this to.

“You need to stop doing this,” Jack wants to close his eyes, wants to savour the sound of Welsh vowels, but he can’t miss a second of this. He keeps them trained on the man standing beside him, still in the same shirt and waistcoat. He looks the same, and he’s still the most beautiful thing Jack has ever seen. 

“Ianto,” he breathes, reaching forward. Ianto comes easily, fitting in Jack’s arms like he always did, slightly stiff and awkward, but no less beloved. He even _smells_ the same, the mix of coffee, cologne, and something Jack can only describe as _Ianto-y_. He smells like home, feels like home, and Jack is glad he can’t cry on this plane, because it would waste precious time. 

“Jack,” Ianto replies, his hands coming up, one rubbing Jack’s back through the material of his coat, the other carding through the hair at the back of Jack’s scalp, before pulling away to look Jack in the eye. “You can’t keep doing this.”

“I just wanted to see you,” he says, his own hand coming up to cup Ianto’s face, thumb tracing the cut on his cheekbone that never had a chance to heal. “I needed -” 

“I love you,” Ianto interrupts, catching Jack’s hand. “I love you, and I can’t keep watching you do this to yourself.” 

Jack swallows, even though he doesn’t need to, not here. He doesn’t need anything here, not oxygen, not food, nothing, just like Ianto doesn’t, but unlike Ianto, he has to leave. He has to go back to the universe that keeps giving him people to love, then taking them away again. He has to go back, and leave Ianto here, alone in the dark. “I - Ianto, I love-” 

“Shh,” Ianto says, pressing a kiss to the corner of Jack’s lips. “It’s been a year, Jack. I can’t watch you keep killing yourself. Or I’ll have to go.” 

“Go?” his voice raises two octaves, his stomach plummeting. 

“Moving on. To the other place, wherever that is,” Ianto says. “I stayed here, because you needed me. But if you keep doing this, coming to see me - I can’t watch you lose yourself like this.” 

Jack’s hands wrap around Ianto’s biceps, and if Ianto had been alive, he knew he would have been leaving bruises. He doesn’t - can’t care. He can’t lose Ianto, not again. “No,” he says, and his voice cracks. “No, you can’t.” 

“I can, and I will,” Ianto says, his voice hard, but his eyes have always been his tell, and Jack can see that he’s terrified. “I don’t want to, but I refuse to watch you keep self-destructing. I can’t do it.”

“Please,” Jack thinks he might be begging. “Please, you can’t leave me.” 

Ianto pulls him forward this time, resting their foreheads together. “Only if you promise. You have to promise me Jack. You have to -” 

Whatever he has to do is lost when Jack is ripped from Ianto’s arms, and it _hurts._ Not just the pain of being dragged out of the darkness, the burning sensation of his synapses reconnecting, his skull knitting itself back together; but losing Ianto, again. And again, and again, and again, because he can never stay long enough, because he can never stay dead. 

His webly is still in his hand. He could do it again, give himself another few minutes. 

He brings the barrel up to his mouth. Breathes. 

Ianto wasn’t the kind of man to bluff, not over this. These little snatches are all Jack gets now, and he couldn’t cope if he lost them too. 

He puts the gun down again.


End file.
